


Sticky

by ohmyflavors (hannibae)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibae/pseuds/ohmyflavors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How much money will you give me if I can get this one on successfully, using just my tongue?” he asks, big smile on his face while he looks up at Rhett. </p>
<p>That pulls a laugh out of him, loud and real, and he’s shaking his head, telling him, “How much money are you willing to give me to let you put that tongue on my body, man?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticky

**Author's Note:**

> this is for the "temporary tattoos" prompt for the rhinksummerficathon2k16!

“You’re getting water all over my shirt, man!”

It’s cold, pressed low on his belly while Link holds to wet towel in place on his arm, and all he does is rolls his eyes, pointedly moves the towel over with his free hand. Rhett smirks, watches him remove the paper, and laughs at the rainbow unicorn he’s now donning on his forearm.

“Very fitting,” Link comments, smirking up at Rhett from where he’s sitting on the counter. There’s a stack of temporary tattoos next to him, all kinds of them, collected from various bowling alleys and skating rinks. Someone had spent at least ten dollars on all of them and then just stashed them away. The only reason they’d even found them was because Link was looking for tape in a drawer no one ever goes in.

“You next,” Rhett tells him, motioning for him to roll up his sleeve so he could get at it with the washcloth. “You gonna do a whole sleeve like you’ve been saying you want? We have enough.”

Link smiles up at him, laughs a little bit. “That would take forever. I’ll get a half-sleeve thing going and then we can give me a tramp stamp while we’re at it.”

He waggles his eyebrows while Rhett presses the tattoo Link had picked out onto his skin, thumb holding it in place while he spreads the towel over it. A few swipes gets it wet enough to stick, and he holds the towel over the entirety of it, counting down in his head. Thirty seconds in, Link starts to squirm a little bit.

“You’d be the worst at getting tattoos, Link,” Rhett tells him fondly, chuckling softly while he peels the paper from Link’s skin. It’s two fish, a cheesy take on the yin-yang symbol, big and gaudy, taking up most of the inside of Link’s arm. “Look, it’s me and you.”

Link scrunches up his face in a smile, laughs while Rhett tosses the soggy paper into the trash. “Yeah, man. Me and you.”

“Okay, my turn again.” He has his next one picked out already, but he watches Link peel off the plastic from one he hadn’t put in his pile with a furrowed brow.

“How much money will you give me if I can get this one on successfully, using just my tongue?” he asks, big smile on his face while he looks up at Rhett.

That pulls a laugh out of him, loud and real, and he’s shaking his head, telling him, “How much money are you willing to give _me_ to let you put that tongue on my body, man?”

“Hey, a lot of people would consider it a gift. Come on, don’t be a wimp,” Link tells him, smiling wide, fingers waving that tattoo around. Rhett can’t see which one it is, so he decides if Link wants to do it so badly, he can put it on his chest, upping the ante a little bit.

So, he lifts up his shirt, slaps his hand over his left pectoral, and says, “Right here, then, brother.”

“What?” he laughs, throwing his head back. For a second, Rhett thinks he’s called his bluff, that this game is over, so he grabs for the one he originally wanted, let’s his shirt drop back down. But after a second, Link is saying, “What a jerk,” and lifting Rhett’s shirt back up.

The press of his tongue sends a jolt through him, makes him bark out a laugh, and a “Whoa, man!” It’s warm and wet, even through the paper, and it’s even worse when Link starts wiggling his tongue around, laving over the tattoo in thick, hot stripes.

It’s such a strange feeling, and when he looks down at Link, he notices he’s closed his eyes, face gone soft while he holds his tongue over the paper.

A muffled, garbled, “Tastes bad,” comes out of Link, and Rhett loses it again. He holds himself upright, putting his hand on Link’s thigh for support while he laughs so hard he gets a little lightheaded. He can feel Link jostling with his own laughter.

“That feels so weird, man,” he laughs, hand coming up to wipe at the tears at his eyes. “We should open a shop, where this is all we do. We’ll call it ‘Lick It and Stick It’.”

“You can be Stick It,” Link mumbles, sending Rhett into another fit of laughter.

He jerks too hard, Link’s head moving, his tongue leaving the paper entirely. The feeling of wet and hot, right over his nipple pulls a gasp he hadn’t anticipated out of him, loud and sharp and feeling very inappropriate. Vaguely, through the ringing in his ears, he hears Link’s frantic apology, but the damage is done, and the next press of Link’s tongue, back over the damp tattoo, has him groaning deeply in his chest.

Link pulls back, eyeing him carefully. “Too weird?”

“No, no,” Rhett says, shaking his head. The answer should be yes, that Link needs to stop, needs to pull away and not but his mouth back on Rhett’s skin, but he can’t make himself say the words. Instead, he just bites back another moan when he feels the heat of him again. “Just don’t lick my nipple again, and we’ll be fine.”

Link is raising an eyebrow up at him, and Rhett just barely catches the challenge in his eye before he feels the swipe over his nipple again, making him moan, chuckling thickly. “Man, what are you trying to do?” he asks, fighting the urge to tangle his fingers in Link’s hair.

“Are you really that sensitive?” Link asks, and he presses his tongue back onto the soggy paper stuck to Rhett’s chest.

In response, as opposed to trying to form any words and end up embarrassing himself, Rhett just shrugs his shoulders. He _is_ sensitive, is the thing, especially on his chest, and he really should have thought this through better, honestly. He’s half hard, just from that little bit of contact, and he’s far more than half-embarrassed about it.

“Is it done yet?” he asks, trying to sound as normal as possible.

Link pulls back, peels at the paper with his index finger, and shakes his head with a sigh. “No, it’s still sticking to the paper up here. Scoot closer, my neck is starting to hurt, man.”

Link’s hands scrabble at his bare skin, pulling him between his spread legs so he can get at his chest better. His mouth being there is starting to feel normal, the heat of it having been well adjusted by now, but he still sucks in a breath when he feels Link’s tongue on him again.

This time, he hears Link let out a little hum in the back of his throat, just barely loud enough for Rhett to hear, but it makes him shudder.

Gosh, all of this has taken quite the nose-dive into inappropriate territory, and he’s really trying to focus on not getting hard from this. It’s Link’s mouth that’s pressed to him, and while he would never be repulsed by it, he definitely shouldn’t be getting aroused that his best friend is mouthing at him in a stupid attempt to get a temporary tattoo to stick to him.

“Man, if this was how tattoos felt, everyone would be covered in them,” he mumbles, realizing too late how it sounds, and his cheeks get red when Link chuckles.

He can feel his breath intimately, can feel his stubble rubbing against his skin as he wiggles his tongue around the paper. The tattoo itself feels gross, slimy with Link’s spit, and there’s a little bit running down his chest that he hadn’t even noticed until this moment, but none of that helps his situation at all.

Almost instinctually, his hand comes up and cups the back of Link’s head, holds him closer to his chest. Link lets out a little sound when he does, and Rhett can’t help but tangle his fingers in the fine hair at the base of his skull and tug just a little bit.

The sound that pulls out of Link is downright filthy, and Rhett instantly wants to hear him make it again, so he pulls even harder. That earns him a throaty moan that shoots straight to his cock, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all.

So he looks down at Link, takes in his flushed, slack face, tongue still hanging out and pressed to Rhett’s chest. He tells him, “Payback, brother.”

“Do it again,” Link tells him, closing his mouth to lick at his lips, and Rhett realizes his pupils are huge. He’s a little shaky, trembling slightly against Rhett.

So he does it again, harder this time.

At the same time, Link sinks his teeth into Rhett’s ribcage, pushing at his shirt in an attempt to get it off entirely. The bite stings, makes him hiss and groan all at once, and he scrambles to get his shirt off for Link.

And gosh, Link leans in as soon as he does, mouth everywhere, hot and slick, soft and then hard, teeth and lips and spit, and Rhett feels like he’s going to explode. Link’s mouth is perfect, bruising and teasing, and he wants so badly to feel it on his cock. He’s hard now, aching and trapped inside too-tight jeans, waiting for Link to make the next move.

The next move comes almost instantly, when he feels shaky fingers working frantically at the button on his jeans, Link having rested his head on Rhett’s chest to watch himself work. In one swift movement, Link manages to push his jeans and underwear down to his knees and get his hand around the base of his cock.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps, loud and sharp in the small room, and his hips stutter forward instantly. Link’s hand feels so good wrapped around him, tight but not too tight, a little dryer than he likes, but still so, so good. “Gosh, Link.”

“Don’t get any jizz on my shirt,” he says, and pulls his hand away to lick at his palm.

Everything is wet—his chest, his cock, the stupid temporary tattoo paper still stuck to his chest. It’s so good, already, and Link hasn’t even really done much of anything.

He jerks him off slowly at first, seeming to get a feel for the mechanics of it all, and he doesn’t look up at Rhett a single time. Instead, he puts a hand on Rhett’s chest to steady himself, and watches his hand move over the length of him. At one point, he drops a line of spit down onto him, and Rhett moans thickly at the feeling, the filth of it, the obscene sound it produces.

“Oh man,” Link chuckles, “That’s so gross. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Feels so good,” Rhett groans, hips canting forward into the circle of his fist. “Let me do you, too.”

He watches in awe as Link leans back far enough for Rhett to be able to get at his pants, hand still working wetly over Rhett’s cock, eyes finally glancing up at Rhett’s face. Rhett uses the moment to lean down and kiss him, just once, deep and wet and earth-shatteringly good, before he’s pulling back and working frantically at getting his jeans open and down.

As soon as he does, he does like Link did and licks his palm, wrapping his hand around the base. It’s strange, feeling someone else’s dick in his hand, feeling the weight and size of him in his palm. He gets the hang of it pretty easily, fumbling at first, not used to doing this at this particular angle, and Link lets out these pretty, little, throaty noises that make Rhett moan loudly.

“You’re huge,” Link moans, and trails his hand over to one of Rhett’s nipples. His fingers are slick, having passed through the damp spots littering his chest, and when he pinches at him, Rhett jerks hard, grunting thickly.

His fingers move from his nipple to the bite mark Rhett can still feel in throbs and waves at his side, pressing firmly until Rhett’s hips are stuttering and he’s coming with a sob, free hand twisting in Link’s hair to pull him up for another kiss.

He licks into Link’s mouth, past his teeth, pulls out as many noises from him as he can while he shudders through his orgasm, hips still twitching up into Link’s hand. In the midst of everything, he stopped moving his hand, and when he realizes, it’s only because Link starts thrusting up into his fist, high, desperate noises falling out of him.

Rhett swallows down his sounds, kisses them away and mumbles, “Gonna make yourself come, bo?”

“Oh,” he moans, high and breathy, “ _Jeez_ , Rhett.”

He jerks his hips up hard, bites at his lip, and chokes out a sound, looking up at Rhett with wide eyes. The sight is enough to have Rhett’s cock giving a weak twitch.

“ _Rhett_ ,” he gasps, hips canting up one last time before he’s coming. Rhett jerks him through it, hand working over him while he watches him come down. His body arches forward before he slumps down, bats at Rhett’s hand with a huff of a laugh.

They pull apart, each breathing a little heavily, and pull their pants up. Neither one of them bother with trying to rebutton anything, but they both look at each other with bashful smiles once they’re situated.

“Come here,” Link says, smiling. “Let me see if that thing even stuck to you.”

Rhett had nearly forgotten, and he laughs softly, looking down at the mostly-dry paper still miraculously stuck to his chest. All the spit on his chest has finally dried, and he feels a little sticky. Link’s fingers pull at the paper carefully, and when he gets it all off, the tattoo is still mostly stuck to the paper.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Link grumbles, sighing heavily.

After a beat, Rhett busts out laughing, head thrown back and all, at the absurdity of this whole situation. When they started this whole thing, the last thing he would have thought would happen was that they’d end up jerking each other off in the office bathroom after hours.

“All of our business plans are ruined!” Rhett laughs. “Lick It and Stick It will never work!”

Link slaps him right over where there are a few dark blobs of temporary tattoo stuck to his chest. “All of my hard work for naught.”

“Not true,” Rhett says instantly, shaking his head.

Link looks up at him with a smirk. “No, I guess not.” And then, after a beat, “Hey, I bet if we add that last thing to our business, no one will care our tattoos won’t stick to them.”


End file.
